


Occupational Hazard

by FabulousPotatoSister



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (god i am SO bad at tagging how do i do this), Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Poisoning, Reader-Insert, Swearing, one character is kind of a creep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25396537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulousPotatoSister/pseuds/FabulousPotatoSister
Summary: The best place to be when danger arises is by the Doctor’s side, but sometimes danger comes just by being at his side.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/Reader, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 123





	Occupational Hazard

**Author's Note:**

> here it is.... finally.... the inaugural Long Fic for 11... i have [“connections”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23629912) for 13 and now i have this!! this took way too long to write because i kept getting distracted watching critical role, but now it’s finally done and i can... move on... anyway i hope you all enjoy!!

“…and this - should be Lobar Three!”

The Doctor spreads his arms with a flourish as the TARDIS lands, its wheezing noise reverberating throughout the console room. The Doctor pirouettes around the console with the grace of a giraffe and slams down a lever – the TARDIS stills.

A small laugh makes its way out of your mouth. “ _Should_ be?”

“Yeah, should be. Moderate climate, beautiful mountain ranges, and gorgeous views thanks to its unique atmosphere,” the Doctor continues, dancing towards the doors. “Get ready for the sunrise of a lifetime!”

He says it like a cheesy tour guide, flashing you one of his manic grins before he peeks his head out of the door.

A beat of silence. You hear him groan, then he sticks his head back in.

"Not Lobar Three," he says sheepishly, "Lobar Four. I missed."

"You _missed_?" You dash away from the console to stand next to him and gently elbow his side. He mutters a soft "ow". "Oh, one day I'll learn how to drive the TARDIS, and you're going to be sorry."

"Oi, don't diss the driver," the Doctor says indignantly, his mouth curling into a frown - though one that's probably more embarrassed than upset. It's fun to see the Doctor flustered, all frowns and furrowed brows, arms crossed over his chest. You decide to try again.

You grin widely, moving closer into the Doctor's side. His mouth hangs open a little bit before he frowns again. "Maybe I should get try and get River to teach me, you've got her on speed dial right -"

"No, no, _no_ , you are not getting River involved in this," he grumbles. "And I do _not_ have her on speed dial. At least it's inhabited. Come on!"

The Doctor swings the doors open, and a bright white light spills through. Carefully, he steps out of the TARDIS, and you follow suit.

You look around, your gaze travelling along smooth marble walls interrupted by framed portraits of wintry landscapes. Several green potted plants stand next to a stone desk. Right next to the empty desk is a shelf full of brochures - the Doctor shuts the doors behind him and runs to the self, plucking a brochure and flipping through it.

"Doctor, where are we?" you whisper.

The Doctor doesn't look up from his brochure. "Like I said, Lobar Four. Fourth planet in the Lobar system, very touristy, and also very cold, on account of it being farther from its system's sun -"

You sigh, interrupting him. "No, I meant where exactly are we?"

"That is a question I can answer."

You turn your head towards a low, rumbling voice - your gaze focuses on a bear-like creature, standing on two feet, walking slowly towards you. Something about its presence is quite commanding, and you stand a little straighter. "Welcome, strangers, to the P'kone Mountain Resort. What is your business here?"

"Hello!" the Doctor says cheerfully, stuffing his brochure into his jacket. "I'm the Doctor and this -" He pats your shoulders and you smile politely - "is my companion. We're just having a look around. Lovely resort. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. ...?"

"The _Doctor_!" The creature's eyes widen, and he steps forward, bowing his head. The many chains on his suit strike each other and make jangling sounds. “I did not expect such an esteemed visitor to arrive. I am Merban, and the pleasure is all mine."

"Oh, esteemed visitor?" The Doctor bows back, then glances at you - you fumble and bow awkwardly. If your bowing is offensive at all Merban doesn't say anything. "What's the occasion, Merban?"

Merban straightens, folding his hands - paws? You'd have to count how many fingers he had - behind his back. His white fur almost makes him disappear into the white marble walls, but the many golden accents on his maroon suit shine under the lights. "We are having a political summit regarding our planet's trade. You may join us, if you like - dinner is just beginning."

"Dinner?" you ask, then cringe at the way your voice echoes in the space. Merban nods slowly.

"Yes, child," he says, a gentle smile spreading across his features. "We would be very humbled to be in your company."

"Oh, _his_ company, not mine," you laugh, gesturing to the Doctor.

Merban frowns, tilting his head to the side. "No, your company is appreciated as well. We Lobarians have heard many stories about the Doctor and his companions. How they travel together, spreading kindness amongst the stars. You play a very integral role in those stories. We will honor you just as much as him."

You feel your face grow warm. You glance at the Doctor and he smiles at you, a proud gleam in his eyes. "Oh. Well, uh - thank you," you manage, your voice small. "Yes, we'll join you. Please, lead the way."

"Very well." With another polite nod, Merban turns on his heel and starts walking into the hallway behind him.

"Honored? _Me_?" you gush, walking not too far behind Merban. You're only human, and although the Doctor's always said that humanity's brilliant, there's still a tiny part of you that jumps in joy at the praise. "They tell stories about you and I'm a part of them?"

"We're a package deal, you and I." The Doctor shrugs, but there's still a smile playing on his lips. _A package deal. Never one without the other_. You soften at the thought. "Word gets around quickly. You get used to it."

"Oh, I think I never will." You try to swallow a laugh, but it bubbles out of you anyway. "Spreading kindness amongst the stars is such high praise. I didn't think we were doing that."

The hallway widens into a large room, and your breath catches in your throat. Intricately carved pillars curve upwards into a domed ceiling, leading to a shimmering centerpiece hanging in the middle of the room that seems to shift in the wind. Scattered around the room are circular tables, decorated with a silken cloth that reflect the lights beautifully. There are a few Lobarians at every table, all dressed in formal wear lined in gold, all of them prim and proper in their seats.

"Friends and allies," Merban announces, "I proclaim the arrival of two very esteemed guests, the Doctor and his companion!"

A bout of polite clapping spreads across the room before it quickly falls silent again. Merban leads you to a longer table set on a stage - a Lobarian with fluffy brown fur dressed in an azure suit quickly leaps up from his chair to greet you and the Doctor.

"Hello!" he says brightly, taking your hand in his - five fingers, so not paws - and shaking it vigorously. "I'm Koramaz, it's so nice to finally meet you." He jerks his thumb behind him at another Lobarian with similarly colored fur, who rises from his seat to join Koramaz. "That's my assistant, Orvin. Why don't you say hello?"

"Greetings." Orvin reaches out to take your hand, the faint gleam of a ring shining on one of his fingers. He presses his mouth against the back of your palm - you raise your eyebrows at him and he laughs, a low sound. "I'm sorry. Traditions travel far and wide across the cosmos. I was told about this human one. Did that offend you?"

"N-no," you stutter out. The Doctor moves to stand behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Lovely to meet you both," he says. You nearly miss him grumbling something under his breath.

Merban settles into his seat. "If you are finished with your introductions, shall we begin?

Koramaz smiles, his teeth bared. And they're sharp. "Of course, Merban. Shall we?"

Merban offers that you sit beside him - Koramaz insists the same thing. In the end, you and the Doctor end up at the center of the table, with Koramaz on one side and Merban on the other. You watch as elegantly dressed Lobarians float into the room and begin handing dishes on silver platters to the guests, spinning around every table like the service is one big choreography.

"So - about this political summit," the Doctor begins, leaning back into his chair and clasping his hands together, "what's going on? Why don't you fill me in on the details, Merban?"

"Our planet is currently divided into two factions," Merban explains. He nods up at one of the servers politely as they set down a plate in front of him. "I am with the Protectionists. We wish to keep our planet's economy independent. That involves increasing restrictions and taxes on foreign exports."

"And I," Koramaz starts, waving away a server, "am with the Expansionists. We want Lobar Four to be seen on the galactic stage! Opening our doors to foreign trade has to be the best way. Don't you agree with me, Orvin?"

Orvin just hums in reply, the blue cloak resting on his shoulder swaying with the motion.

It's only now that you notice how the room is divided in two - the ones wearing blue sitting on one side, and the ones wearing red sitting on the other. It's also only now that formality of the event hits you. The Doctor in his suit and bowtie fits right in, but you - you're in a shirt and pants. You reach up the grab the hem of your shirt, anxiously running your fingers over the fabric.

" _Preposterous_ ," Merban mutters. "Lobar Four is not yet ready for that kind of progress."

"If we're not ready now, then when will we be ready, Merban?" Koramaz counters. "Hmm? What do you say to that?"

"Well, progress is subjective, when you really think about it," the Doctor says. "It all depends on what your goals are, and if your goals differ, then so does your idea of progress. I suppose that's what makes this so difficult."

"Spoken like a true public speaker," you whisper, leaning in.

The Doctor chuckles. "I was on Aristotle's debate team."

Koramaz turns to face the Doctor, his eyes glinting. "Say, Doctor, why don't you put in a good word for us? Everyone here trusts you a lot, and I'm sure you agree with me. Opportunity for all, and all that."

The Doctor smiles and shakes his head. "Sorry, I'm not really one for politics. The gossip can get a bit -" He grimaces slightly - " _much_. More of a negotiator. I don't really interfere."

You snicker at that. _Really?_

The Doctor narrows his eyes at you. _Hush_.

"I'm sure you lot can come to a compromise," the Doctor says. Merban scoffs.

"Compromise has no place in Koramaz's vocabulary," Merban says. Koramaz shrugs at that, raising his palms in the air. "The boy has a one-track mind, as the young ones say. I can only hope that these talks go peacefully."

"Yes, we only want the best for our planet." Koramaz nods slowly. He glances at Orvin, his gaze hidden by his fur. "It's a shame you won't put your two cents in, Doctor. But rest assured, we'll come to a conclusion by the end of the night."

A small tap on your shoulder makes you look up at one of the finely dressed servers. They carry a small tray filled with glasses of a rose-colored liquid. The server nods at you, then the drinks. "Would you like one?"

"Sure, thanks." You reach up and take one of the glasses - the rose-colored liquid sparkles, and when you smell it, it _does_ smell faintly of roses. "Is it alcoholic?"

"It is a wine from our territory," Merban says, "a gift from my faction to Koramaz's for all of us to enjoy."

Koramaz swirls his own glass of wine. "It's a wonderful gesture. What about you, Doctor? Will you drink?"

The Doctor waves off a server, shaking his head, but he's got his own glass too. "Nah, I don't drink. But I do love to hold the glass in my hand, it makes me look cool."

Your laughter is what sets the whole table off - Koramaz chortles, and even Merban gives a low chuckle. The Doctor smiles, proud, raising the glass like Gatsby at one of his parties. It's enough to make you laugh again, steadying your hand so you don't spill your drinks.

You raise the glass to your lips and sip the wine - it tastes fizzy, and burns your throat when you swallow, but it isn't bad. The Doctor frowns like a disapproving parent, pointing his sonic at the glass. You raise your eyebrows at him as he skims over the readings.

"What?" you say, lowering your glass.

"I don't want you getting drunk, this is a diplomatic affair," the Doctor says quietly.

"Okay, Mr. Grumpy Face. You're no fun." You take a big gulp of wine and then immediately regret it as it burns even harder in your throat, blazing a trail of fire all the way down to your stomach. You cough, your face twisting into a grimace. "Don't laugh."

"'Course not," the Doctor says, laughing. "Are you okay?"

"Fine!" you splutter. It still burns, and you pound your fist against your chest. " _Ack_. I shouldn't have done that. Don't go all _'I told you so'_ on me and tell me that the wine isn't safe for human consumption."

"Oh, it isn't," the Doctor says nonchalantly. When you stare at him, your eyes going wide, he laughs. "Kidding! I'm _kidding_. Look at you, all panicked with your big eyes."

You groan and the Doctor laughs again, louder this time. Your annoyance drops at the joyful sound and you smile, biting your lower lip. You're out of place in a super fancy alien dinner party, and yet the Doctor is still squarely by your side, his laugh like an anchor amongst all of the extraordinary things happening. You file that nice thought away for later, to admit to him in a more vulnerable moment.

"And now, a dance," Merban announces, raising his glass, "to cement peace between our two factions. Koramaz, if you will?"

"Of course." Koramaz rises and makes his way to the very center of the room - the guests dressed in blue all form a circle, and the guests dressed in red partner up with them.

Orvin extends a hand to you. "Wait. Before you join the dance, I have a gift for you."

He unclasps the pin that holds his shoulder cloak in place - it slides off his shoulder, the fabric shimmering in his hands - and throws it over your shoulder. He leans in close to pin it, his fur just tickling the skin of your neck. It looks a little strange, the beautiful piece hanging off of your casual clothes, but Orvin looks proud. "Perfect for a beauty like you."

You smile shyly at him. "Thank -"

" _Yes_ , thank you very much," the Doctor says quickly. He shoots a polite smile in Orvin's direction before he practically drags you away. "You didn't have to say yes," he says, his grip tight around your wrist.

"I didn't?" You pry your hand out of his grasp. The cloak sways as you move, cold like metal as it brushes against your arm. "It's a really nice cloak, though."

The Doctor huffs. "It's finely-woven chainmail - the metal links are as tiny as thread. Makes it look just like normal cloth. Lobarian craftsmen do _not_ mess about. Symbolic Lobarian attire, the one-shoulder cloak, common throughout the whole system."

"Symbolic of what?" you ask. The Doctor sighs, his brows pinching together.

"It's an old symbol, it doesn't matter." You shoot him a look, trying to give him your best puppy-dog eyes - the Doctor holds your gaze before he sighs again, deeper this time. "Oh, _you_ \- alright, it means you're unbound."

"Unbound?"

"Unmarried, without a partner, whatever you want to call it!" the Doctor says, his voice climbing higher. " _Single_. I don't know."

You watch the Doctor, shoulders slumped as if in defeat, his hands thrown up in the air in frustration - if you didn't know any better, you'd say he looked a little -

"Raise the music!" Koramaz bellows, and the music grows even louder. Everyone starts to sway, some joining hands, some pulling each other close.

At Koramaz's announcement, the Doctor relaxes slightly. He extends his hand to you, bowing slightly like a proper gentleman - "Shall we dance?"

"Aren't you a terrible dancer?" you ask, placing your hand in his.

The Doctor smirks up at you, and your heart stutters in your chest. "You've never seen me waltz."

You breathe out a laugh as the Doctor steps closer to you, your hand still clasped in his. You bring your free hand to his shoulder - the Doctor, not taking his eyes off you, lets his hand come to a rest on your waist.

And _oh_ , his _eyes_. Have you ever really looked at the Doctor before today? Like, _really_ looked at him? Has his face always looked like that?

He said you were unbound but you certainly don't feel that way - swaying with him, the Doctor feels like the only thing keeping your feet on the ground. You blink up at him, at his hair that just looks perfect for running your hands through and his eyes that seem to hold everything.

You haven't been looking. Now you're looking and _you really like what you see._

You exhale through your mouth at the realization, and hope that the Doctor doesn't hear. He's humming along to the music, happy enough. "Doctor?" you ask, jumping a little at the way your voice comes out strained.

The Doctor hums in response, a note of the song. You swallow. What's brought this on? Is it the alien wine you've just drunk? It probably is. _Liquid courage_. "Have I ever told you that I think you're really -"

"Excuse me," a Lobarian next to you coughs, "you'll have to pass her along."

You feel the Doctor's hand tense against your waist. "What?"

"We're meant to dance with everyone," they explain. "The dance can't continue until you pass her along. Sorry."

Something flickers across the Doctor's face, too quickly for you to figure out what it is. He lets go of you, pushing you gently away from him, and you think you catch him frowning as you're passed along.

It's easy enough to engage in light conversation with the Lobarians who dance with you. Most of them are overwhelmed at your presence, others are adorably curious about human customs. They ask questions about climate and plants, some of them tilting their heads in confusion at the idea of a "summer". A few remind you too much of old economics teachers.

You've just finished talking with a tall Lobarian woman when she spins you and passes you along to the one beside her - strong arms catch you, and you look up at Orvin's face.

"My cloak suits you well," he rumbles, smiling.

"It does," you say brightly. "Thank you, it's beautiful."

Orvin hums, intertwining his fingers with yours. You jump at the intimacy of the action, but his hold is too tight for you to pull away from it. "Do you know what it means?"

"Y-yeah, the Doctor explained it to me."

"Then you must know what I think of you," Orvin says. His hand, once settled on your waist, starts drifting towards the small of your back - you shudder at the touch. "Do you know what it means when it is given to someone?"

"No," you squeak out.

Orvin's pulling you closer, your bodies nearly flush with one another. "From one unbound to another… I think you know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I follow," you say, leaning away from Orvin's face, which was now very close to yours. His teeth are just as sharp as Koramaz's. "But I'm - I'm not unbound."

"Well, you might not be - but maybe your partner isn't here." He leans in closer to you and you stiffen. To anyone watching, Orvin might as well be dipping you, but all you want to do is kick him and run away. "Why don't we have a little _fun_?" he whispers, his breath tickling your ear.

There's something almost predatorial in Orvin's gaze that sends your poor heart into a frenzy. Sharp teeth and something sharp digging into your back. You squirm in his grasp, trying to find safety - the Doctor. You meet his gaze from across the room, and you have to blink at the intensity of his glare.

Orvin can't see it, but the Doctor is burning _holes_ into his back.

"I'm not unbound," you repeat, trying to put a little fire in your voice. The Doctor's gaze flickers from Orvin to you and he shoots you a polite smile, but the look in his eyes hasn't gone. _My anchor_ , you think. "The one I'm bound to is right behind you."

Not entirely the truth, not entirely a lie either. Maybe it's a wish.

A few seconds pass, the silence between you and Orvin heavy with tension. He turns his head to face the Doctor, and then he laughs. The sound sends shivers down your spine.

"Alright," he finally says, "I assumed. I apologize."

_You'd better be sorry_ is the first thought that crosses your mind. Orvin shifts his hand away from the small of your back - a sharp pain pierces through your skin. You suck in a breath through your teeth.

"You alright?" Orvin moves his hand back to your waist. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," you say. The pain is gone as fast as it came. "Probably just static."

Orvin looks down at you curiously, but nods. He pulls back from you, getting ready to pass you to your next partner, and you spin, and spin, and, spin, and hang on, should you be spinning for this long or -

"Woah, woah!"

You're spinning. You're _still_ spinning. Or is the room spinning? You blink slowly, your eyelids heavy. Maybe it's the wine, the one glass of Lobarian wine you had that's messing with your system. Maybe the Doctor was right, maybe it really wasn't good for humans. The room lurches forward - or maybe you do.

"Hang on, I've got you."

The Doctor. You're back in his arms, still swaying slowly to the music, which sounds so far away now. Has someone stuffed your ears with cotton? You lean forward and rest your head on his shoulder, pressing your forehead against his tweed jacket.

"I saw you stumbling," the Doctor says, his voice quiet near your ear. "What's going on? Have you had too much to drink? I told you -"

You groan, cutting him off, your stomach roiling. "I don't… feel good. I feel like..."

You grip against the Doctor slackens, and you fall - the cold marble floor doesn't greet you. Instead, the Doctor's arms wrap around you before you can collide with the floor.

You can faintly hear a gasp spread throughout the entire room. The music's stopped, too. You want to apologize for ruining everyone's fun, but all that comes out of your mouth is another weak groan. You squeeze your eyes shut, but the room's still tumbling. _So dizzy..._

Koramaz's voice drifts in. "Oh, no. What's wrong? What's happened?"

"I don't know, I need to find out first," the Doctor says. You feel him pull you closer, letting your head rest against his chest. The double beats of his heart join the pounding in your head. "She said she wasn't feeling well, why would she be not feeling well..."

"There is an infirmary, in the hotel," Merban suggests. A furry hand pushes the hair away from your face. "She can be taken there until she is well again."

" _Right_ , since you all have great service." The Doctor's voice waver's ever so slightly. You reach out, your hand wrapping around one of his braces. "I'll go with her. I'll stay until she's better."

_Please_ , you try to say. It comes out like a strangled noise in the back of your throat instead, but the Doctor seems to understand. You feel his lips press against your hair. _Don't leave_.

"No, Doctor," Koramaz says gently. "This could be really serious. There might be a criminal in our midst. We need you here, to answer some questions."

Merban speaks up. "Koramaz, are you insinuating that -"

"No, I'm just being thorough."

"And if I won't?" Something dangerous plays at the edge of the Doctor's voice. His hold on you tightens.

"Do not worry." Merban's voice is calm and steady. "Rest assured, your companion will be provided the best care that we have."

Koramaz speaks again, and you feel yourself being moved, away from the Doctor - a whine bubbles out of your mouth, your hands still searching for where the Doctor is. _No!_ "Orvin'll help take her to the infirmary. Won't you, Orvin?"

_Not this bastard again_ … "As you wish," Orvin says. He scoops you up and lifts you. Everything lurches at the motion, and you groan again, dizzy, confused, and maybe just a _little_ bit scared.

Their voices get farther and farther away, but even though all the nausea there's a thought, clear as day, nagging at you in the very back of your mind.

"H-hang on," you mumble. "Guys, I don't think I'm drunk..."

* * *

The Doctor tries to swallow his jealousy as he watches Orvin walk away with your limp form in his arms. That's not what he's supposed to be feeling right now, but he can't help the ugly feeling that's snaked its way into his hearts.

You'd looked _radiant_ tonight. The sight of you in Orvin's cloak - although a little bit annoying - is something that he's sure is etched in his brain. You'd looked like royalty in the blue piece. He’s seen a lot of royalty, and they’re absolutely nothing compared to you. And you looking up at him, almost dreamily, face flushed with alcohol, is not something he'll forget.

But he can't get the way you reached out for him out of his brain, either. The way you gripped one of his braces for dear life, the way your hands reached out blindly through your confusion, looking to him for comfort.

_Not jealous_ , he tries to convince himself, _worried_. He's better at that anyway.

"What's going on?"

"Let me see, let me see!"

"They've just carted her off..."

The Lobarians start muttering amongst themselves. After you'd fallen into his arms, they'd scattered, grouping back into their respective factions. The beautiful palette of reds and blues divided again. It's funny what fear does to a people.

"Now, now, everyone, calm down," Merban says. "There is no need for panic. Fear and suspicion will only make our investigation harder."

"Fear and suspicion?"

"Merban's right, we need to stay as calm as we can -"

"No, we need to start asking _questions_!"

Murmuring spreads through both factions. The Doctor watches Merban, hands held out, trying to placate everyone - and Koramaz, shifting on his feet, mouth bared in what almost looks like a snarl, his sharp teeth reflecting the light and making him look even more vicious. He can sense it, Koramaz's anger, and he takes a careful step backward. The whole thing is a puddle of gasoline, and if Koramaz says anything, there will only be ashes left behind.

"Now, have any of you here seen anything suspicious during tonight's proceedings? Anything at all?"

Most of the Lobarians shake their heads, looking at each other with wide eyes. The Doctor's seen this before - classic political intrigue. Two factions with a rivalry. It's something he'd love to solve, if he wasn't dealing with the nagging worry slowly climbing up his throat.

Suddenly, Koramaz snarls, pointing a finger at Merban. "If anything, _you're_ the suspicious one!"

A collective gasp. _There it was_. Now there was a fire.

Merban raises his hands, shaking his head. "Koramaz - you must be mistaken. As I have said, we all need to stay calm, and -"

"No, we aren't going to stay calm," Koramaz grumbles. "Who invited the Doctor and his companion to the dinner? Whose territory was that wine from? Hmm?"

There's another gasp, and another wave of panicked muttering. Merban sighs. "Koramaz, please. Let us talk about this."

"They're the ambassadors of the universe, well known through time and space!" Koramaz voice shakes with emotion, his entire body trembling. " _You_ did this! You tried to poison a visitor - a potential ally in trade, an _opportunity_ \- to keep our planet independent! Your cruelty knows no bounds."

"Koramaz - no -" Merban begins, but soon enough his voice is drowned out by the sound of yelling and fighting. " _Koramaz_!"

"Doctor, look at him!" Koramaz shouts, glancing at the Doctor with wild eyes. "Don't you see how guilty he is?"

The Doctor stays silent.

"Everyone, are you feeling well? Have you had any of the wine?"

"You _bastards_!"

"We're just trying to help Lobar Four!"

Koramaz goes still in the middle of the chaos. The Doctor narrows his eyes at him - narrows his eyes at the way he takes a deep breath in, adjusts his suit, and relaxes as soon as the first stone has been thrown. He storms off, disappearing into the throes of panicked and angry Lobarians.

The Doctor moves to stand next to Merban. The Protectionist leader looks absolutely frazzled, his once pristine fur now sticking out at unnatural angles.

"Merban," he says, and Merban jumps at the sound of his voice. "I'm sorry, you lot are really being quite noisy. I think I'll head back to my ship now, if that's alright with you."

"No, Doctor, we -" Merban sighs, ragged. "I may need your help. You must be concerned for your companion. If you cooperate with us, I'm sure we can find a solution."

_Concerned is an understatement_. "I'll be here," he says, placing a reassuring hand on Merban's shoulder. "But I won't be of any help while you're all squabbling. I'll stay out of your way until this all dies down."

Merban relaxes ever so slightly, and the Doctor gives him a small smile. Slowly, he nods, placing his own hand on the Doctor's shoulder. Merban's touch is firm, but his gaze wavers. "Of course. Feel free to leave, Doctor - but do come back. We will let you know when we need you."

"You're a good man, Merban," the Doctor replies. "Thank you."

The Doctor waits until Merban lowers his hands, and watches him as he plunges into the crowd of arguing Lobarians, his deep voice rising above everyone else's.

_Good show, Doctor. Time to make your escape._

He slips into another corridor as quietly as he can, the sounds of petty words being thrown at one another getting softer and softer. He walks towards the lobby, where the TARDIS is parked, anxious hands fidgeting to keep his mind off the first thing it drifts to - a worst case scenario.

But of course, it does. The Doctor just doesn't want to bring those thoughts to the front of his mind.

His worry is practically clawing out of his throat now. The Doctor fights it first. Merban had promised you'd be safe, but Koramaz - Koramaz hadn't made any promises. Only threats. He stops fighting his fear, his hands curling into fists.

The Doctor turns on his heel and walks the other way.

He thrusts his hand into his jacket, and with a soft cry of "a-ha!", pulls out a brochure. It's the same brochure he'd picked up when he landed - it's shiny, reflecting the light into his eyes, and also very informative, as all good brochures should be.

He turns it over in his hands. Printed on the paper is a map of the hotel, a tiny glowing blip on the paper marking where he's standing.

The Doctor opens his mouth to explain it to you, _paper-thin optics with a built-in directional tracker, waiting for your excited response_ \- then he falters. It's quiet. You're not going to respond because you aren't there, right by his side, where you _should_ be.

Problem number one. The rest, he can deal with later. Finding the area on the map labeled "Infirmary", he sets off in that direction first.

The Doctor walks silently though the hallways, sonic screwdriver held up like a weapon. He won't boast about it, but Time Lords have better hearing than humans - not the best, but still quite good. He can still hear the distant sound of raised voices, but he tries to focus on something else. He tries to see if he can hear you, your voice, your breathing, your heartbeat, anything of yours that he can recognize.

Nothing.

He looks through the glass doors of the infirmary - and they're empty. He peers in further, and there's still no sign of you. None of the beds have a pillow out of place, and the staff inside are too busy tending to other people.

_Not jealous, not jealous, worried_ , starts to sound quite bad in the Doctor's head. Jealousy would have been better than this.

The Doctor lifts the map to his face again, squinting at the tiny text printed onto it - Infirmary, Function Halls, Private Rooms. The private rooms don't look too far away from the infirmary. _A guess won't hurt_ , the Doctor thinks.

Then, close by - the sound of a clattering doorknob. And voices. Faint groaning.

"Doctor..."

Then a faraway thud, the sound of something soft falling to the floor. Like a body.

_Maybe this guess would hurt_. The Doctor runs towards the source of the sound, one of the private rooms, and presses his ear against the door. What he hears next makes his heart twist painfully in his chest.

It's _you_ , it's your voice. It's too faint for him to make out any words. The Doctor grits his teeth as he presses his whole body against the door.

It doesn't budge. He tries the doorknob - locked. Anger joins his repertoire of already jumbled emotions, setting his hearts alight with a white-hot anger that he hasn't felt in a very, very long time. He points his sonic at the doorknob, gripping it so tightly he can see his knuckles turn white - the door swings open and he very nearly drops the device.

"Help," you mutter weakly, sprawled on the floor. "Help me."

"No, no no _no_ -" The Doctor drops to his knees beside you, sweeping the sonic over your body - the whirring noise makes you furrow your brows, and he apologizes under his breath. He has a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of that. He skims through the readings, his hearts pounding out of his chest at every point of data.

He tucks his sonic back into his jacket and gently turns you over. You roll onto your back and groan, your arms hanging limp at your sides.

"Hey," he murmurs, his vision going hazy. He blinks quickly. _Not now_.

Slowly, he wraps his arms around your shivering form. You're shaking like a leaf in a storm, and you feel impossibly frail in his arms. A sob makes its way through your trembling lips, and the sound rips the Doctor's hearts in two.

You had just been smiling, laughing, dancing with him minutes ago. Now you're sobbing in his arms. The Doctor swallows.

"Doctor?" you mumble. You're looking into nowhere, your eyes glassy. "I need to - need to find the Doctor..."

Now you were just being cruel. "It's me," the Doctor chokes out. He blinks the tears out of his eyes, again, but he can't stop the few that slip out. "I'm here, I'm right here. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" Your cheeks are shiny. "Wha… what for?"

_This. Everything_. The Doctor reaches out to wipe your tears - and he jerks his hand away. You're burning up, sweat beading on your forehead, your hair sticking to the damp skin. Even Orvin's chainmail cloak has absorbed some of the warmth.

"Nothing," the Doctor whispers. He takes your face in his hands and presses a kiss to your forehead, even though heat is coming off you in waves. "I'm going to take you home, okay? You're going to be alright. I promise."

"Home," you slur, your head lolling, "yeah, home sounds good."

The Doctor doesn't like making promises. He's too afraid of what happens when he can't keep them, but he swears he'll fulfill this one. You lean into his touch and sigh, that one puff of breath scalding the skin of his hands.

Your eyelids flutter as you head comes to rest on the Doctor's chest. Another round of shivers wracks your body, and the Doctor tightens his grasp on you.

As gently as he can, he rises to his feet. The motion makes you whimper, and you curl up in his grasp. He sets his jaw and steps out of the room.

You mumble things under your breath as the Doctor weaves through the hallways, making his way back to the TARDIS. Back home. He doesn't want to listen, because your delirious mumblings make his hearts hurt terribly, but he does catch a few. A few "sorry"s, a handful of "hurts", the occasional "ow", and "I tried to warn him".

"Tried to warn me about what, sweetheart?" he coaxes when you mumble it for the third time. You blink up at him blearily, recognition flickering in your tired eyes.

"M'not drunk," is your breathy response. "Didn't feel drunk. Felt sick. My back… hurts."

"Your back?" the Doctor asks. You groan in reply, and when the Doctor jostles you experimentally that groan tapers off into a weak cry of pain. It's too much for his hearts. "Was it the wine? Do you think it was the wine?" he tries, following another lead.

"My _back_ ," you insist weakly. "Dance… he was too _close_..."

The TARDIS comes into view, and the Doctor quickens his pace. Just a few more steps and you'll be home, _safe_ -

Merban nearly runs into him. His jaw drops open at the sight of you hanging limply in the Doctor's arms. "Oh, _goodness_ ," he gasps, "what's happened to her?"

"I don't know," the Doctor growls, the anger in his hearts a roaring fire. "How about you tell me why she wasn't in the infirmary? Or why she was all alone in a locked room with a raging fever?"

"Doctor, I -" Merban stutters. "I was under the impression she was being cared for."

"Well, your impression was _wrong_."

Koramaz appears behind Merban, and his eyes widen in shock. He reaches out for you, and something in the Doctor snaps - _he isn't allowed to get close to you like that, no one is!_ He steps back quickly, shielding you in his arms.

_"No, don't you touch her!"_ he snarls, suddenly much older and ancient and dangerous.

Koramaz stops in his tracks. The Doctor glares at him, breathing heavily, watching as he stumbles backwards. There's a sick satisfaction building in him at the fear in their eyes - and the Doctor realizes that maybe, just this once, he doesn't mind being ancient. He doesn't mind being dangerous.

But then you mutter something disjointedly, shift your frail body in his arms, and it's all wiped away like writing on the sand. The anger gone in just a moment, replaced by a fear that keeps him rooted to the floor.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Merban asks softly.

The Doctor looks down at you. He's always scared, but not like this. Never like this.

"I'm being selfish," he says, and he disappears into the TARDIS.

* * *

_“Have you done it?”_

_“I have.”_

_“Good job.”_

Voices drift into your hearing. All you feel are sensations – incoherent and choppy, like someone had deleted entire minutes of your memory, scenes jumping from one to the other. Being scooped into someone’s arms, carried into the dark. Silken sheets brushing against freezing skin. Something thick and heavy being laid over you, suffocating you –

_“Make sure she isn’t found until later. You know the plan. You know what he needs to think.”_

The voices are familiar. Should you be alarmed? You feel like you should – but you can’t be. It’s too cold to feel anything else at all. There’s a soft click, and then laughter. Low laughter, laughter that’s too threatening to be kind. The sound sends shivers up your spine.

A small part of your mind’s still awake, and its screaming at you to _get the hell up_. You roll, and twist - then you fall, and the bed disappears from underneath you. You’re weightless for a second before your elbow collides with the floor. You’re too tired to even cry out in pain.

A thought pushes through your mind as you reach up at what looks like a doorknob – _find the Doctor._ He’s home, he’s safety, he’s _everything_. The doorknob rattles once, twice, nothing.

“Doctor,” you manage, and then –

Another voice drifts in. Warm and comforting. Soft against the sharp pain.

“Hush, I’m here,” the voice says. Something cold presses onto your forehead. A bead of liquid trickles down your temple and disappears into your hair.

“Where…?” You draw in a slow breath, your head lolling against a surprisingly warm pillow. You want to open your eyes – look upon your savior, as dramatic as that sounds. But your eyelids are so heavy, and you give up before you can even try.

“It’s alright, you’re safe, you’re on the TARDIS.” This time it’s hands, a palm pressing against your forehead, gentle fingers pressing onto your neck, both of them blessedly cool. You sigh and lean into the touch.

“Try to rest – you’re still burning up.” The hands retreat – then they come back, brushing against your cheek. The touch says a thousand words that you’re too tired to understand. “I need to figure out what they’ve put in you before…”

Silence for a moment.

“…I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

Darkness swallows you before you can say anything back.

You come to consciousness like a computer waking up – every system flickering to life one by one. Touch comes first – you’re in a soft thing, a comfy thing, a bed. The faint hum of the TARDIS reaches your ears, low enough to be calming background noise. Sight is the last thing that comes to you as your eyes flutter open.

This isn’t the medical bay. It’s missing the sterile white walls and clean lines you’re used to waking up to when your adventures go inevitably south – and this isn’t your room either. It’s big and barely decorated, and while most of the rooms on the TARDIS feel old, this one feels older than most.

“You’re awake!”

The Doctor comes into your vision. You notice three things – one, his jacket’s gone, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Two, this bed you’re lying in? Huge. Three – the Doctor’s eyes are very, very red.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Not – sure,” you reply, your voice hoarse. “Confused. How long have I been out?”

The Doctor doesn’t answer that. He sits down on the bed instead, pulling your arm gently from under the blanket with a practiced ease. He rolls up your sleeve and peers at your forearm, his gaze steady and laser-focused on one spot on your arm.

The Doctor’s mysterious, but _sometimes_ he can be easy to read. It isn’t hard with his face – he doesn’t shy away from emotions, and even when he tries to, they slip out of the mask he tries so hard to maintain. There have been quiet nights on the TARDIS after those botched adventures, that have started with anger and ended in tears from the both of you.

You flick your gaze from your arm to the Doctor’s face, and really _look_. Even through the thick haze that lays like fog on your mind, you can see his eyes, red-rimmed and sunken, and the way his jaw is tight and his shoulder are squared with a tension you’ve seen before.

_He must be angry_ , you think, _angry that I’ve gotten hurt, somehow._

“Good,” the Doctor finally says, looking up at you with a tired smile. “The antidote seems to be working – I made it with your blood, by the way, so if you feel a little lightheaded that’s on me.”

But there isn’t any anger in his eyes. There’s no storm, no fire. Just… exhaustion, and maybe a hint of relief as he looks at your face.

You must have missed it.

“What happened?” Your mouth doesn’t form the words quite right, and you catch the way the Doctor’s lips curve up fondly.

“You were poisoned,” he says, running a hand through his hair. It’s messier than it usually is, and his bowtie’s askew too. He turns away from you before you can reach up and fix it.

“Poison?” you ask. You struggle to connect the dots in your head, your mind still running too slow for your liking. “Someone poisoned me?”

“Not organic, not one you can buy either. Unprofessionally made, cobbled together in a back alley.” The Doctor’s gesticulating wildly now, moving his hands around in the air – without his jacket, he looks much smaller, and a little ridiculous. Then you wonder where his jacket is. “Something like this, you’re not looking for an easy kill – you’re just looking for _results_.”

“Yeah, they got results,” you groan. Every part of your body aches, and trying to reach any thought is like swimming in an ocean of molasses. “They definitely got results.”

You press your palms against the bed beneath you and push – and the world _tilts_ at the movement, a sharp and sudden pain piercing through your lower back. You fall back against the mattress, the air leaving your lungs.

The Doctor whirls around, and before you can blink his hands are frantically hovering over you. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“My – back,” you grit out, your head still spinning. “Ow.”

The Doctor’s already wide eyes widen even more. His hands, once reaching out, pull back to rest against his chest, tightened into fists. “When I found you, you – you kept warning me about your back, telling me your back hurt, and I couldn’t look because I was too –”

His voice breaks, and he trails off. He stares, eyes full of unshed tears, and swallows his words instead.

“Never mind,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “Let me have a look.”

Steady hands help you into a sitting position, even though the pain bares its sharp teeth every time you shift. You cling to the Doctor, fabric bunched up in your hands. He has to gently pry your grip open so he can move, and crouches behind you.

Still lost in a haze of pain, you can only blink blearily into the distance. You barely feel the Doctor’s fingers slowly curling around the hem of your shirt, or the way hits your bare skin as he pulls it up slightly. But you do hear a sudden exhalation of breath, and the whir of the sonic as he passes it over your skin.

After that – silence. Uncharacteristic _silence,_ a silence that’s almost deafening as the Doctor skims through the readings.

“What is it?” you venture.

Another moment of silence. Then – “A puncture wound. So small you can barely see it.” The Doctor’s fingers brush over it, and you shudder. “It’s… an entryway. The source of the poison.”

The Doctor moves, and then he’s right by your side again, gently pushing you back onto the bed. He’s sad, you can tell that much, but his eyes have a familiar storm brewing behind them. Just lying in wait to rip and tear into everything in its path. The smile on his lips does nothing to hide that.

“Right. _You_ –” He points at you, standing up – “should be getting some rest. I need to take care of things with the Lobarians – y’know, _stuff_. Diplomatic stuff. Important… stuff. I’ll be back.”

Something in you stirs – not anger, because he doesn’t need it right now, _worry_ – and your hand shoots out, weak fingers wrapping around the Doctor’s wrist. “Let me come with you.”

“You’re supposed to be healing, not running off with me,” the Doctor says, his voice soft but admonishing, “It’ll be really boring, I promise -”

“Isn’t that how this whole thing started?” Your grip tightens around his wrist. “Me running off with you.”

The Doctor looks down. “I invited you.”

“And I said yes,” you whisper. You tug gently, and he sits onto the bed with a soft thump. You know this Doctor – and right now he’s volatile. Letting him leave would be like a match to gasoline. “Listen, I don’t want you to do anything stupid.”

_Please stay_ goes unspoken. _I care about you_ goes unspoken, and about a million other things too.

The Doctor sighs, but there isn’t any edge there. “I can never say no to you, can I?”

“Nope,” you say tiredly, popping the “p”. The Doctor laughs. _Anything to make you stay_.

The Doctor settles into the bed beside you, and as if on cue, the lights dim. The TARDIS’s humming grows even softer, fading until all you can hear is the sound of the Doctor breathing beside you.

“She’s being awfully nice,” the Doctor whispers beside you. “She’s spoiling you.”

“She likes me,” you reply. “Jealous?”

“Only a little bit.”

You hum in response. The darkness is already lulling you back to sleep, but you shift and nuzzle into the Doctor’s side. You feel him go still against you, against the sudden affection, but you don’t let up – you cuddle closer to him, you ear close to his chest.

You should be embarrassed. You’re _probably_ embarrassed. But the relief you feel at getting the Doctor to stay by your side is clouding your judgement, and then there’s also the whole _getting-poisoned-thing_. You can imagine the look on the Doctor’s face – eyes wide, cheeks red, mouth parted like he can’t think of anything to say.

But he loves surprising people. “A few days,” he says quietly.

“What?” you mumble into his chest.

“You were out for a few days.” The Doctor shifts, wraps an arm around you. “I’m answering your question.”

“Oh.”

Snuggled into his chest, you can hear the sound of his heartbeats. Their rhythm pulls you closer to sleep, and your eyes slip shut.

Then you hear the Doctor _sniff_ , feel his breathing hitch, and suddenly it’s your turn to go completely still against him.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he continues, sounding so impossibly _small_. “You were in and out of consciousness while I worked on the antidote. You -” A ragged sigh, then a soft whisper of your name - “you nearly _died_.”

Fear grips your heart tightly, squeezing dangerously – partly because of the fear of dying without being aware of it at all, and mostly because of the fear that coats the Doctor’s every word. You would have left him all _alone_ , and if the distant storm brewing in his eyes is any indication, he would have done something much worse than stupid.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can say.

“No, don’t be, don’t be,” the Doctor murmurs. His lips brush against the top your head, and he pulls you even closer to him. “ _Please_ don’t be sorry. You did nothing wrong. This is my fault.”

“It’s not…” you begin, but the Doctor shushes you, and runs his fingers through your hair. Every motion pulls you deeper into sleep, and although you have a thousand things you want to say, you’re fading.

The last thing you remember is a whispered apology.

It's cold when you wake up again. You shift in the bed, trying to snuggle against something that should be behind you, but there isn't anything there. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and sluggishly reach out, letting your arm flop against the empty sheets, searching for warmth.

Your eyes shoot open. _Empty sheets_.

You turn your head to the side to find the spot beside you empty, the sheets smoothed out like a certain Time Lord had never even been there. Even your blanket's smoothed out, pulled over your shoulders and up to your chin like a parent would do.

It shouldn't hurt, waking up alone. It always happened. The Doctor isn't yours - he's always moving, always running, and someone like that can't ever be tethered, especially not to you.

But it does, and you find tears pricking at your eyes at the thought. If he can't be yours, then you can't be his either, and that means -

"No, _you_ listen to _me_!"

You push yourself up. The pain in your back is still there, but it's a dull pain now, and certainly nothing compared to way your heart's started hammering in your chest.

That's the Doctor's voice in the distance, loud and ringing and _angry_.

You throw the blanket off your legs and climb off the bed. Your bare feet press against the cold wooden floor, and the chill sends another burst of clarity to your mind. He's out there, alone, and furious. _Never a good combination for the Doctor, historically_ , you think, reaching up to rub your arms.

Your gaze falls onto a crumpled pile of tweed fabric slung over one of the chairs. Picking it up, you run your hands over the fabric. It feels sentimental, doing that, like interacting with a memory. _The things this must have seen..._

It's too big for you when you throw it over your shoulders, but it feels like him and smells like him, so it's enough. You wrap the Doctor's jacket tighter around yourself and stumble out of the room.

The sound of arguing drifts down the TARDIS hallways, and it's hard to make the Doctor's voice out from all the overlapping voices. The Doctor was right, though - the TARDIS is kinder today, and the hallways don't wind as much as the usually do. It's a straight shot to the console room. The voices get louder as you get closer to the door.

"Y'know, the funny thing about politicians is that they lie."

"Doctor -" That's Koramaz - "you have to believe me; I would _never_ lie to you!"

"It's in your business to lie, part of the job description really. Why wasn't she in the medical bay? Why was the door to her room locked?" The Doctor's voice gets louder as he speaks. "If I didn't think so highly of you, I'd think you were trying to leave her for dead!"

There's a sigh, and Merban speaks - "Your opinion of us shouldn't have to change, Doctor. Let's keep this amicable."

" _Amicable_?" the Doctor asks, incredulous. "Ha! We'll see about amicable when I find out what you've really done - no one hurts the _people I love_ and gets away with it!"

_Fuck_. You run up to the doors and try the doorknobs - they're locked. _Fuck_!

The Doctor's voice is dark, darker than you've ever heard it before, his words laced with an anger usually reserved for only the cruelest of beings. _He knew he would leave, and he knew I'd follow him - the nerve of the man!_ Your sweaty hands slip against the metal doorknobs and you swear under your breath again. You press against the door, but it doesn't give.

"Please," you beg, looking up at the TARDIS's engine. It hums lowly. "I know you're listening. _Please_ , old girl, before he does anything he's going to -"

The TARDIS doors swing open, a gust of wind pushes you out the doors and you stumble out of the ship and back into the P'kone Mountain Resort.

"...regret."

A wave of silence crashes over the room. Everyone stands frozen in time, still dressed in all their finery - Koramaz and Orvin standing side-by-side, hands raised in the air; Merban with an arm outstretched, held up protectively over the other Protectionists; and the Doctor, because he is the Doctor, standing proud in the middle of the room. Jacketless.

The Doctor's head whips towards you and his gaze softens, his eyes raking over your form. "Are you okay? What are you doing up?"

"I'm fine," you say, waving away his fussing hands. "What are you doing?"

"I thought I told you to rest," he says. Something cold cuts through his voice, and you narrow your eyes at him.

"I thought I told you to _stay_ ," you shoot back. The Doctor closes his mouth. You peer into his eyes, finding the fire that's infamous for, and counter it with your own. He shrinks against your glare.

The room's still divided, glittering red against shining blue. The Lobarians whisper to one another, and while you can't catch what they're talking about, you can make a guess. Time to put on a show.

Orvin steps forward from the crowd, wringing his hands together. "Are you well, now? We were so worried about you."

The words drip out of his mouth, sickeningly sweet like honey. You remember the glint of his teeth when he smiled at you on the dancefloor, and the sharpness of his hand against your back. He was too close, much too close.

_Two can play at that game_. You bare your teeth in a smile.

"Thank you for your concern," you say sweetly, walking up to him. The Doctor reaches out, tries to stop you, but you shoot him another look. "Might I say, you're a wonderful dancer."

"Oh, well, thank you," Orvin mutters. He swallows and clasps his hands together tightly in front of him. "So were you."

"Yeah?" Your smile grows wider, and Orvin shudders. "You know, you're a great dancer, but a _terrible_ fucking liar."

You grab Orvin's clasped hands and pull, prying his hands apart. Your fingers dig into his wrists, nails carving crescents into his skin, and he yelps.

"Didn't we get close, Orvin?" you ask, leaning closer to him. Orvin's breaths come in short puffs, and behind him Koramaz's eyes are wider than dinnerplates.

Glinting on Orvin's left hand is a ring, golden and intricately carved, a shiny red jewel set into the top. The Doctor comes close, leaning down to look at his hands.

" _Ooh_ , nice ring," the Doctor says, peering at the ring, understanding dawning on his face. "College ring, class of 4320 at the University of Neloba - good school, I was a professor there for a cycle. But -"

The Doctor turns towards you, gives you a quick smile, then shoves his hand down the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out his sonic screwdriver, and with a flourish, points it at Orvin's ring. He holds it upright to read the results - and something dark crosses over his face.

"It's a match," he says quietly, "to the poison in your system - by the way, mind if I take a look?"

Orvin opens his mouth to protest, and you twist his wrists upward, his palms facing the ceiling. He makes another pained noise.

The Doctor pulls the ring off his finger and holds it up to the light. Gently, he presses against the red jewel - and on the bottom of the ring, a small needle pops out for just a second before it disappears again.

" _Ah_ ," the Doctor says simply, gesturing to Orvin with the ring still held between his fingers. "What do we have here?"

"Orvin, how could you!" Koramaz gasps, his voice shaking with every word. "My own assistant, doing something so dastardly -"

"Oh, _THAT'S ENOUGH_!" the Doctor roars, throwing the ring to the floor. You jolt, and the whole room seems to shake at the sound of his voice, loud as a crack of thunder. "Stop lying, stop _acting_ \- just stop! _Why_ did you do this?"

Koramaz shakes slightly, exhales, then goes completely still. If the Doctor's fire, Koramaz is ice, reflected in the pristine blue of his clothing. The Expansionists, standing near him, look like an ocean ready to swallow the Doctor whole. Slowly, he smiles, and spreads his arms.

"You're a warrior, Doctor," he says, shaking his head. "You've destroyed. Razed down everything in your path. Sometimes..." He glances at Merban - "that can help people."

"Koramaz..." Merban's jaw is hanging open. He shakes his head slightly, his eyes wide and unbelieving. "I did not think you were capable of such things."

"You didn't think at all, Merban."

"Help _you_ ," the Doctor spits, glaring at Koramaz. His hands are balled into fists at his sides. "What, so you wanted to turn me against the Protectionists? Was that it?"

"Your anger is a weapon, and one I intended to use." Koramaz smiles again, but it's thin. "I had no choice. Like Merban said, I don't believe in compromise."

The Doctor stares, fire burning in his eyes. Shoulders tense, he starts walking slowly, stalking Koramaz until there's barely any space between them, until he's cornered, nose-to-nose with the Oncoming Storm. The Doctor almost dwarfs Koramaz, his glare boring holes into him.

"Funny, because I'm starting to think that too," the Doctor growls, his jaw set. He looks down at Koramaz like a predator to prey, and for the first time, you see genuine fear in Koramaz's eyes.

"Doctor," you call out. He doesn't seem to hear. He's the Oncoming Storm now, surrounded by a hurricane of his own making. "Doctor!"

"My anger? A weapon?" The Doctor's voice is cold and sharp, like knives trailing against skin. "Do you want to find out _why_ , Koramaz?"

You know why - you know _exactly_ why, from stories weaved across time and space - Koramaz trembles under the weight of all the Doctor's sins, and the Doctor doesn't need to add another name to his list.

You have to fight it. You have to fight against the blustering winds of his fury, but you push through - and your hand wraps around his. The Doctor faces you, his eyes shining with an anger that isn't entirely human, and you do the only thing you can really do -

Pull him from the edge. Smile, and squeeze his hand tight.

"Don't" you whisper, and although what you really want to say is still left unspoken, in that split second, there's no one else in the room. Just you and the Doctor.

You're _his_ anchor now.

"You had a choice," you tell Koramaz, still clutching the Doctor's hand. "You thought that if you hurt me, you could make the Doctor do something terrible. But he's better than that. He's a good man."

You look up at the Doctor. He's staring at you, gazing, a mixture of pride and sadness in his big green eyes. His lower lip trembles.

Deep breath. Only the truth, now. "I know him."

You can hear the faint murmuring of the Lobarians, and before your eyes the colors shift - the red mixes into the blue, Protectionists and Expansionists talking with one another, hands on shoulders, offering comfort.

"What do we do now?" one of them asks, their hands tightly gripping the front of their dress.

"You sit down," you say, and stand a little straighter. They're all looking at you now. "Reconvene. Actually discuss things instead of plotting and scheming behind each other's backs. Be better, for the future of your people. That's what this was all about, wasn't it?"

One Lobarian bows. Then another. Soon enough, all of the Lobarians in the room are bowing to you, a show of respect and reverence. Even Koramaz is bowing, his face cast to the floor.

You glance at the Doctor, smiling. _I learned that from you._

He smiles back, gentle. _I know._

Merban lifts his head, still poised despite his ruffled appearance. His eyes are damp, sorrow swimming in them. "Koramaz will be dealt with as best as we can. I am truly sorry for what we have done."

"Occupational hazard," you reply, bowing back to him. "Learn from this, won't you?"

"We will try." Merban nods slowly, and a tear slips from his eye. "I'm sure you understand now."

"Understand what?"

"Why you are a part of the stories," Merban says, bowing once more. As you stare at the Lobarians, all bowing in a show of respect and reverence, you do now.

You turn away from everyone and tug at the Doctor's hand, as gently as you can. The storm in his eyes ebbs, leaving behind a slight drizzle. "Let's go home, yeah?"

"Home," the Doctor echoes. "Home sounds good."

* * *

The Doctor doesn't say a word for the whole trip home.

He's quiet as he walks up to the console, pushing buttons and pressing levers without the manic energy that he usually has. It's disconcerting, but not surprising, and you settle for leaning against one of the railings as he works. The TARDIS stays kind, and takes off without even a shiver.

You keep your eyes on him as he pilots - watching him push in coordinates, swinging screens around - but the tension hasn't left his body. He's still wound up, ready to snap at a moment's notice, so you stay quiet. There's no sound but the hum of the TARDIS's engines. 

Your mind drifts just as the TARDIS does, the room swaying slightly underneath your feet. This is what it's like, travelling with the Doctor in his magical blue box, and you know not every adventure ends well. Not every story has a happy ending.

What was another near-death experience? You practically lived off of them, thriving off of the rush that filled you when you escaped danger by just a hair. Running and laughing together. _But this feels different_ , you think, still watching the Doctor walk slowly around the console, _because something's changed._

But what was it?

You pull the sleeves of the Doctor's jacket. He hasn't asked for it back yet, and a small part of you hopes that he never does. It's incredibly comfortable, and the only warm thing in the cold space between the two of you.

The Doctor's eyes are dark, and the dim TARDIS lights cast shadows over his youthful face. The ship's lights and sounds were a tell if you couldn't figure out how the Doctor was feeling, and now they were completely in sync, darkness against darkness.

He brushes past you and slumps into one of the chairs, crossing his legs. He shuts his eyes, presses a hand against his forehead, and heaves out a shaky sigh.

"Are you mad?" you ask, your voice just above a whisper. The Doctor snaps his head up to look at you and he looks so weary, so old and so tired.

"Mad? Of course I'm mad," he says, the edge in his voice still there, but fading away. "I'm cross. _Extremely_. That doesn't usually happen."

You swallow, still gazing at him. His stare is intense, and he hasn't really looked you in the eyes since you stepped back onto the TARDIS. "I mean, are you mad at me," you add softly.

The Doctor's eyes widen a fraction, and he sits straighter in the chair. "No," he says, "no, not at you. Never at you. Why would you think that?"

You're quiet. You're never this quiet. You shrug, and the Doctor's jacket nearly slips off your shoulders. You catch it before it can fall - you also catch the Doctor's eyes tracing your form, his gaze stuttering to a stop at the sight of you in his jacket.

You shift against the railing, pulling his jacker tighter around your body. "You okay?"

"'Course I am," the Doctor replies, obviously not. He looks deflated sitting in the chair, his form almost swallowed by the seat. "I'm the king of okay. I said I was never gonna use that title again. Ignore me."

You give him a small smile, and he lights up a little bit. "No, you're not."

The Doctor frowns at you. "I _am_."

"You always lie," you tell him, raising your eyebrows.

The Doctor sighs again, but it isn't exasperated or angry - just defeated. He stands up in one quick motion, his hair flopping with the movement, and moves to stand in front of you. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, and gazes down at you.

"I'm sorry," he says slowly, and the words echo in the room. He's standing close enough for him to reach out, but he doesn't - instead, he keeps his distance, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. "It's my fault you got hurt."

"It isn't," you protest, but the Doctor shakes his head.

"It _is_ ," he insists, and something like desperation colors his words. "They hurt you because of me. They knew how much I cared and they weren't afraid to use that."

"It's not your fault." You reach out and take his hands, shaking your head. "Caring isn't a weakness, you know that better than anyone."

The Doctor stays silent for a moment. He's still staring, unnaturally still despite the tears that threaten to spill out of his eyes.

"I should take you home," he whispers hoarsely, trying to pull his hands away from yours.

" _No_!" you blurt, and the Doctor goes still again. "No," you say again, softer, and intertwine his fingers with yours. 

"I can't promise to keep you safe," the Doctor mutters.

"You don't have to." One by one, you lace your fingers together. His hands are bigger than yours, and he practically covers your entire hands with his. He watches you do this, his lips slightly parted, eyes sparkling with what looks like… _wonder_? "I want to stay with you. I don't care how dangerous it is, or how many times I get hurt - it's worth it."

And you mean it, every word. Every bruise, every scar – just something that comes with the life that you’ve chosen with him.

You stand on your tiptoes - the Doctor laughs quietly and leans down his head. You press a kiss onto his forehead, pouring everything you want to say into it, and hope he understands.

The Doctor straightens, standing taller. You frown up at him and fall back onto your feet. "You're so tall."

"Regeneration's a lottery," he says, and a smile - a real one - spreads across his face, like a sunrise warming the cold evening air. And just like a sunrise, the TARDIS's lights grow brighter, her humming and trilling like a triumphant symphony. "You're wearing my jacket."

"I am," you say. You're still very comfy in it, and the Doctor notices, because his lips curve up in a fond smile. "Does a Time Lord giving someone their jacket mean anything?"

"Why do you ask?" the Doctor asks, pulling his hands away from yours to smooth down the front of the jacket.

"Well, Orvin's cloak meant something. Does this mean something too?"

The Doctor's face goes red, and you have to push down a childish giggle as he flounders.

"The Lobarian courting cloak means a lot of things," he says, waving his hands around, "It's a symbol for the heart, the soul, the being of a Lobarian. Giving all of you to another."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "But I took your jacket."

The Doctor's eyes glitter. "...Well?"

Now it's your turn for your face to burn - you pull at the sleeves again, biting your lower lip. Your heart does flips in your chest, and you don't try to stop it from going haywire.

The Doctor, with another laugh, scoops you into his arms - he wraps his arms tightly around you, pressing his face into the crook of your shoulder, his whole body shuddering as he breathes a sigh of relief. You place your hands in his hair as he finally unwinds, relaxes, and lets go.

"Keep it for now," the Doctor murmurs against your ear, "I've got spares."

You stay there for a moment, just holding each other as the TARDIS sings around you.

"I’m not leaving you," you breathe out. "Package deal, remember?"

The Doctor doesn't say anything, just nuzzles closer, and it's enough of a reply for you.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this fic! have a great morning/afternoon/evening, where ever you all are!!


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